Author Archives: melissafed

On Sexy Shoes

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I bought some shoes once. The heels were high, the toes were open, they were expensive and they made my legs look eight feet long and the truth of the matter was that I knew it. Now those shoes sit in my closet and keep company with the rest of my twenties collecting dust and reminding me of all the chances I wasted.

My son asked me today:

“Mommy, are you afraid of anything?!”. He said it like I was brave, like he could scarce believe the possibility that I would be. I laughed inside because, well, I’ve been afraid of most everything for most all of my life.
It was only recently when I was able to shake myself free of those chains that were like weight on my ankles, like cement boots.

I told him. “YES. I am afraid of things. Sometimes I am afraid of bad men or bad things happening”. But later, like he usually reminds me of all things true, I realized:

”No. I am much more afraid of getting this wrong. This thing. My life. What if I waste it? What if I spend it recklessly on the equivalent of a new pair of shoes? What if I care more about cool and sexy? What if I don’t make my life about the main things?”

I have a job, it is easy and I am good at it. But the truth of the matter is I don’t care much about it. I could walk away from it yesterday and the only thing I would miss was the pay cheque, the fact that sometimes people stroke my ego. What if I never really chase my dreams, or the passions God keeps piling on my heart? What if? What if my obituary talks about my beautiful home and not about my fight for justice? What if I spend my love on myself and not on you? What if Jesus wonders, how did you treat the least of these? What if He flat-out asks me, I was hungry did you feed me?

Today as I hiked up the path to my office, in my practical $12 boots, I prayed “Lord God, make me an instrument of your peace let me see what you have for me today. Let me be the one who radiates truth when the world seeks to perpetuate facade and illusion. Oh. God.”.

Living in the Resurrection means you live in spirit. Sometimes we feed this flesh so much we think we should be thriving. Oh, look at all the quiet time I am spending! Look at all the good I am doing! Look at all the ‘community’ I am building with people exactly like me! Look at all the rest I had! But suddenly, instead of changing the world we are we are dying like roadkill. You were never meant to serve the world…her busy for the sake of herself. You were meant for a higher call.

Jesus asks us to sow in the spirit. Jesus asks us to die to the flesh. And sometimes the decay?  It smells like new shoes.

 

Linking with Jen & friends today!

Prompt “The Sweater”

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Joining Amber Haines and Emily Wierenga as we seek our written voices. Playing with fiction and the prompt “Sweater”. I am also attempting to play with a slightly longer piece of fiction this November. I will use this character sketch in it and  this little piece takes my word count to 4354. It is awful…But I am having fun. 

He pulls his favorite cardigan from the closet, pulls it over his vintage t-shirt, his black rim glasses. It was the sweater he bought for that ‘ugly sweater party’ a few years ago and he has since noticed that all theme parties are brief apparitions before a new trend appears. His girlfriends hot pink tights, his moustache. We laugh loudest, rail most extravagantly, just before we fall off every fashion cliff. We scream the loudest at the demons in our own heads.

Martin is a man of strong conviction, though his convictions are subject to change with extravagant frequency and fervor. One day he will fight hard against women in leadership and the very next he will be the most ardent of feminists, astounded that anyone could still hold such archaic beliefs as he had just held the day before. He loves to talk about music and the books he pretends to read but especially what he calls ‘serving the Lord’. To him, the walls between secular and holy are high and solid. To him stacking chairs at church is entirely different from stacking chairs at school. But that was today. Tomorrow he might tell you something entirely different.

He waxes and wanes with the seasons, with the articles he reads, the conversations he has and no man in the history of earth has simultaneously loved and loathed himself so intensely. He is the sort of beautifully broken that women fall in love with from across the room, they stand in line to be the one who can finally save him from himself. The problem is, he turns to sand in their hands, sub atomic particles, he dissolves into the black hole of his narcissism, vanishes from their sight. In the end the women walk away fairly unscathed; somewhere down deep they knew that he had no capacity to love them no matter how much passion he had shown.

Building Bridges

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You are the peninsula stretching out into island and I can feel you quake. The ground beneath your feet is already shifting, the tectonic plates of independence they just won’t stand still. I can feel you moving away and I, mother, I will build that bridge.

 

On these days when even I would prefer to set you adrift, I will reach across the greatest divide and draw you in. Draw you close. We’ve given this advice. Parents of teenagers, they say “What do we do? They push us so hard?!” and we say, keep building bridges, chances are good they don’t like themselves much, at this moment either. So love them anyways. Teach them what grace means. Show them what love is. PUSH BACK. Build that bridge.
And so tonight I am thankful I am home….though there are other places I could/should be. Tonight we do extra story time and wrestles and bike riding. Tonight we figure out how to build our very first bridge.
And Boy? Just so you know… I will keep building no matter how many times you throw those grenades. This mamma love has no gaps for you to find.

 

 

A little update and a giveaway…

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Dread Pirate Owen and Doc McEmily (yes…I am that mom that knows her daughter would prefer a princess costume but instead I buy a doctor suit. Dang.)

This week in one giant tidal wave of busy. Both the children have birthdays, Halloween smack dab in the middle, we had a party, phase one of the research project we’ve been working on completed. I had two batches of cupcakes explode over the interior of my oven. Joel preached what felt like 12 days in a row. Our little family is ready for a long slow weekend, curled up with hot drinks and books and sitting next to fires that burn big and bright. Joel put benches into a trailer for us in order to host some hayrides this winter. We will give that a try too.

So that is how October spun to a close and today I find myself looking forward to all that is to come in November and I am wondering: can anyone just make up a National Month of “Something or Other” these days? I mean mustache growing month? I know the world has evolved from my thinking about mustaches…but I am keeping it real since 1999. The man can participate by growing a beard (love me a beard) and he can have a mustache for the one night of celebration but…it better be gone again before he gets in my bed.

BUT I am participating in another National Month this November. I want to write. And people like me, those that don’t have all sorts of advice to give you. Those of us that don’t know how to make a home. Those of us that got no tips for you about beauty or clothes or cooking? We don’t make it as bloggers. And I don’t know if I could make it as any kind of writer, but I think I want to give it a try. My whole life I wanted to leave it out there as the thing I never tried. That way I could say I never failed. But now? I’ve failed PLENTY and you know what? It wasn’t the end of the world.

 

 

And so now, I think I would rather fail than never try. I would rather my story be that of letters of reject than letters never sent. I tell the boy all the time, all it takes to do anything is practice.

 

So National Novel Writing Month…HERE I COME! I am going to crank something out this month. You can see my word count on the top right of the screen. Hold me accountable will you? And I would love for some prompt ideas…give me a word? An idea? You few…who read here regulary….is there anything you have noticed in my writing that hints towards a theme??? What should this fist BIG story be about?

ALL IDEAS WILL BE PUT INTO A DRAW FOR A NOVEL OF YOUR CHOICE FROM AMAZON! Fun right? So…GO…ideas please!

 

 

 

 

LET THE WILD RUMPUS START!

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The invitation for the party that never was (last year…)

I had a favorite book as a child. One of the clearest memories I have of kindergarten is my teacher, Ms. Davidson reading “WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE”. I was transfixed, mesmorized, I LOVED it. Two years ago when I bought it for my kids it had the same effect on them. They asked for it near every day for six months. The memorized near all of it.  Last year I planned a Wild Rumpus party for them, but then, my little boy was in the hospital for his birthday and I was too exhausted by the time we got home to think of doing anything like that. I just wanted to rock my babies in a sterile bubble so that they wouldn’t get sick ever again. A year later and I have recovered enough to let them play with other little germs children.

On account of the fact that I combine their birthdays AND I didn’t get to host a party last year, I felt more than entitled to get a little carried away. And so ensued the ROYAL RUMPUS. My daughter is a bit more into princesses than wild things so I ensured there was plenty of royal fun as well as wild boys. It worked out great.

A walk through our party. The entrance sign:

The decorations:

The goody bags:

Gummy contributed most of the amazing decorations, but our favorite parts were the boat for Max in which he sailed off through night and day. THANKS AGAIN MOMMY!:

Our little wild princess…

Party people sailing off

And the Max and Princess cut outs, also compliments of my momma:

We watched a movie (that E acted out…my favorite part):

Showed their TERRIBLE CLAWS…

 

 

We made masks and crowns:

 

 

 

And had such a fun WiLD RUMPUS:

 

 

 

I just hope the kids had as much fun at the party as we had putting it together! Thanks again for all your help everybody!!!

 

Resources we used for our Royal Rumpus:

 

 

 

Most posters/invitations EVERYTHING here to print! I downloaded the font here so that we could add our own details for the invites and goody bag labels.

Activity book/crown for goody bags from Harper Colins

Max paper doll for goody bag. From Toy-a-Day.

Bernard Paper Doll for goody bag. From Toy-a-day.

We showed this version of the story by Sendak. We found it in a discount bin for $3! Amazing I know.

More fun ideas here…if you want to get even more carried away then us!

Country Chronicles: On a Lighter Note

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Snow arrived at the Ranch this week. Yup you heard me. Snow OCTOBER 23. This is the earliest that we have seen here by a full month. O has been thrilled and it has been near impossible to make him come in the house. The first night after dark, we finally convinced him to quit by promising him that we could go as soon as school was over the next day. When I arrived to pick him up he was somehow snow geared up from head to toe and shouted “LETS GO HOMEEEEEEE”. So we did (partly because he looked fairly absurd in snow pants when there was not a speck of snow in his school yard). We stayed on that hill, again for a solid 2.5 hours.

We’ve been creating a fair bit these days too. I’ve been preparing for their birthday party coming up on Sunday. We’ve been playing “Wild Things” watching the Maurice Sendak version non-stop we may even be able to recite near half of it. Of all the possible themes for a party at our house “wild things” seems the most appropriate of all. I’ve a bad habit of getting RIGHT carried away with party planning, and the fact that I can still get away with only one party a year means that I can completely justify it.

Some friends and I chatted recently of what our children will believe about us when they read our journals/blogs someday. I later thought about what YOU think about me. You who read here but who have never met me in person. You might get the wrong idea about me. You need to know a few things:

I’ve a habit of writing from my darker spaces when in actual fact 80% of myself is goofy, not quite serious enough, shockingly unprofessional.

I perpetually laugh much too loud and much too long at completely inappropriate times.

I spend too much money on strange t-shirts I find online.

I read graphic novels. Did you see this last season? It was BRILLIANT.

 

You get the idea. I just don’t want you to think I am all melancholy. So the blog is shifting a little. In some ways it will be more personal…I might tell you about how we actually spend our days, what our life looks like.

My VOICE is sometimes heavy, but my spirit is usually light. I process deep, I wrestle joy into submission with words…and then I live in it, uninhibited and free.

 

Abstraction of the Concrete: Chains that Bind

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I can almost hear them drag some days. Jacob Marley across these wood plank floors. It sounds like a slave dance. A dirge. It sounds like death is coming, or is already here.

Sometimes I feel like I am the weighted links that hold you down, hold you back. Other times I am your accomplice, your co-conspirator…we two breaking out of some sort of prison box others want to lock us in. Sometimes I feel locked to this house like the dog on the porch, sometimes…

Sometimes motherhood expectations weigh heavy around my wrists, bind my hands together keeping me from making the choices I would like too. The chaff is almost visible the way, some days, I want to break clear of them with a big rock, how some really hard days I find myself chewing at my own hand…like a bear in trap I think it is the only way to Free.

Sometimes I roll around in the chains myself. I willingly yoke them around my neck. I spend too much time on Pinterest. I read about what all the other people are doing and somehow feel like that is my call too. I loop those heavy links around and around. I chase career and dreams and hip and each coil weighs more than the last and my head hangs low.

But You? You tell me yoke is easy, burden light. You tell me that I am not a slave, but a daughter adopted, redeemed. You lift my head, my back straightens up, the chains all tumble. And in this moment, my breath comes easy. The sudden rush of air feels like wind in my hair, a love song in my ear, it is nothing like a funeral song.

Linking with Amber and Emily as we shake off these chains…

Prompt: The Table

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Image

We thought it was a fine idea, to buy reclaimed Indonesian hardwood. Brilliant, to buy comfortable, woven banana leaf chairs. Back before the children came. Back when the dining table, polished and perfect, was where we ate when the company came. It is easy to look good when you haven’t really been tested yet.

Now the cracks of the old tree plank are packed up with yogurt. The ridges on the chairs filled up with crumbs. Still we put our feet under this table. We invite people to it. Yesterday I watched a young man scratch at the yogurt with his thumb, I made excuses. I make a lot of excuses. My husband, he made me promise that we would never hide our mess, that we would invite you into it. He says it is the pretenders who let sin fester till it explodes. Not those who lay it on the table. We just hound after Grace like the dogs for the crumbs. 

It is 5 am the cup is poured and I am already at the table. It is not by choice mind you. That girl child rose a second time to remind me that my life is not my own. Rose again to remind me of that day that passed, looking like failure and yogurt in cracks. It was one of those, where I failed near all of you. Felt dreadfully sick of my very own skin, my mess the most abhorrent of all.

I make my way here and start again. Make my way here where truth is resurrected, something is sticking to my feet. It reminds me of grace.

Linking with Amber….seeking my written voice…and Emily...celebrating imperfect prose.

An October Saturday

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L. M. Montgomery – “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.”

 

The man is out-of-town and we woke up to the first rain having fallen in ages. The shadows cast slightly differently across the ranch as the sun rose later. The clouds are hanging heavy in the valley and the leaves turned over to yellow. The children are refusing to leave the house and so, I suppose, it is time to admit the seasons are a changing…winter is indeed coming.

I don’t mind so much. Not when it means I can read for three hours, make pumpkin pie french toast, light candles, hush the whole world. Life can be such a frenetic rush, sometimes it is so beautiful to not make a plan, to wonder what I want to do with a day. A fort is built for the kids, they’ve moved in beds, snacks, and most recently asked if they could watch Cinderella in it. I may not see them until dinner.

So for me? This afternoon I am enjoying:

This. I don’t know why this translation is striking me…over the head…over and over today. I’ve kept it open all day today and I return and return. Do yourself a favor. Do the same thing tomorrow. Let it settle in deep.

My lovely friend opened a BEAUTIFUL etsy shop! Way to go Shelley!

THIS Josh Garrels beautiful video…RAD.

Possibly the funniest film to come out of the youth ministry department…ever.

Watched this trailer at least five times so far. Cannot wait…one of my favorite novels of all time. And then? This, and this, AND THIS? Might spend fair coin at the movies this fall, it is a book to movie extravaganza.

 

Finished book two of “Song of Ice and Fire”. Fighting the urge to begin book three.

 

 

And this little bit of Wendell Berry for you… (hosted by Suzannah who is writing out “31 days of Making Peace”. WORTH THE READ!)

Happy weekend friends!

 

 

 

 

Pursuit Justice is Coming…

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There are not that many absolutes I know in life except this:

You are here to do good things.

When you lose the vision of what you are here for, your life becomes small, depleted, maybe even incestuous. You hang out with the same people all the time. You start looking for ways to make your own life easier. You watch out for number one. You get petty. You become the king of first world problems.
Guess what? The satisfaction in your life actually diminishes. If I can promise you nothing else, I can promise you this. You will be bored. You will be boring. I’ve watched it over and over.

The sermon on the mount,where I’ve been camped a lot these last few months, doesn’t tell us to hang out with the cool kids (even though sometimes it is more fun and often is easier). The bible tells us the opposite. Get in there.  Get your hands dirty. Love on the least.

Find out how to bring peace. Find out what justice means. Bring it.

Somehow all the complicating factors in life fall away when we are living for the right things.

Watching porn? Try and watch it again after you learn about human trafficiking…how your sisters ended up in that film…what brought her there? It becomes a different experience.

Feeling like you can’t keep up with the Joneses? Go to Haiti. Find out the Joneses are idiots for hoarding whilst people just a few hours away struggle to survive.

Feeling like you got your crap together? Go to Africa. See how together they have it and how yet, still, the seams are not meeting up.

Your little girl not doing well in school? Guess what? They get to go to school.

Trying to answer all the biggest questions? Stop it. Love your neighbor. Suddenly peace descends and you don’t have time for the trivial things that actually don’t matter. There are answers you will perhaps never make peace with. I don’t know why people suffer like they do, but I for one want to make it better.

Will you join me? Pursuit Justice is coming. We are going to read books that matter. We are going to decide how 5% of the Pursuit Live tithe is spent. We are going to serve our community. We aren’t going to be critics that drive our brothers insane. We are going to be the people of God who seek the good, the best, in every corner of this whole earth. We are going to bless the givers. Give our strength to the weak.

I don’t know what it will look like a year from now. But I hope you will be sitting with me when I find out.

(Our first Pursuit Justice will happen November 5 at 5:30 in the Hope Centre. Join us? I will write it out here too so you can join in the conversation ‘virtually’ as well)